SWITCHBLADE (Choi Ziyi Book 1)

by Mike Morris

  "Sorry," whispered Wing to the dead man, as Song dug out his right eyeball with the knife. Despite the drugs coursing through his body, Wing nearly threw up again as she pulled it free.

  "Don't wimp out now," said Song as she dropped the eye into a clear plastic bag. Together they picked up the body and dropped it into the flames.

  "I'm not going to. It's just... shit. I'm not trained for this. This spy stuff isn't me."

  "This isn't about training, Wing. You weren't trained when you took out those guards. That was instinct — your sense of survival overriding everything. We do what we must."

  A light went off in Wing's brain. "Why didn't you tell me you were part of the same programme as Ziyi and Rui?"

  At least Song had the decency to look embarrassed. "Did you find out while we were connected?"

  "No — it was just obvious when I thought about it. You could've told me."

  "How?" she laughed. "Just drop into conversation over coffee one day? 'Pass me the sugar, and by the way, I'm a spy for the Empire.' You were under surveillance as much as the next person."

  "I thought the programme stopped with Ziyi and Rui."

  She gave him that look again that said he was being stupid. "It never stopped. We had to have replacements ready in case either Ziyi or Rui died or were too injured to carry on. But even so, the programme didn't exist just to protect Xiao. A good percentage of the people that work directly with the Emperor, from his chef to the cleaning staff to his driver, are graduates from the programme."

  "Why didn't I know any of this?"

  "You, of all people, should know knowledge is power. Our anonymity is our greatest weapon, and our absolute loyalty to the Emperor is our greatest strength."

  Wing took a deep breath, felt another kick from the MTC and grinned along with it. Whatever was going to happen, he was ready for it. "Let's get the fuck out of here then." All they had to do was walk out one of the most heavily guarded facilities in the Empire.

  25

  Ziyi

  Ziyi watched the sun rise over Hong Kong. Streaks of magenta washed over burnt orange as the sun crept up over the starscrapers. From the Upper Levels, the city looked as beautiful as ever — there was no sign of the mayhem she'd left behind in Aberdeen or the carnage in the Zeros. Sitting in a soft leather chair, surrounded by great works of art, it was almost possible to pretend her life was still as it had been forty-eight hours earlier. If only it were so.

  She'd left Robert two hours earlier at a friend's home in Tin Hau. However, it was better he was elsewhere for whatever happened next. He was a good man but no fighter.

  Her pistol lay on the armrest, her hand on the grip. Still hidden from the morning light, she listened to her heartbeat in the empty room while she waited. She resisted the urge to switch on the news. As much as she wanted to know what happened elsewhere, she didn't want any noise to betray her position.

  The sun had climbed above the starscrapers when she heard the elevator doors open in the corridor outside.

  "Yes, your eminence, your son is safe and well and returned to us." Deng's voice was unmistakable. "The people who took him are all dead. Justice has been done."

  "And you're sure the Americans weren't acting alone?" Dao Yu's voice sounded tired and old over the link.

  "I'm afraid so. The conspiracy has spread deep inside the Government. I was shocked at who we discovered was involved," replied Deng as he entered the room. "My men, however, move in the next few hours against the last of the conspirators. You've my utmost assurances the stain of their treachery will be washed away by sunrise tomorrow." His back was to Ziyi. "We are, of course, keeping an eye on things but at this moment, it would appear the threat is over."

  ""Good. Good. I have complete faith in you, my friend." The Emperor's voice came from Deng's phone. "How is Xiao?"

  "Remarkably well, all things considered. I'm seeing him later and will pass on your best wishes."

  "Until then, my friend."

  "Good night, your eminence," said Deng. He turned as he disconnected the call, a smile on his face.

  "Sir, forgive my intrusion," said Ziyi, stepping out of the shadows.

  Deng jumped with surprise, his smile gone. He clutched his hand to his heart. "Ziyi? What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"

  "I'm sorry if I shocked you. I came in through the side entrance. My retina gave me access."

  "Why aren't you with Xiao? What's wrong?"

  Ziyi bowed her head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I had no idea who else to turn to. Or who I could trust."

  Deng walked over to her, grabbed her by the arm. "What are you talking about? What's happened?"

  "Xiao is still in danger."

  "But I just left you with him. He's safe in the Imperial Palace. I don't understand?"

  "The woman with Xiao isn't me. The woman he’s asked to marry him isn’t me."

  The words knocked Deng back two steps. A sea of emotions played out across his face. "Then who...?"

  "I don't know. I've spent the last twenty-four hours pursuing the Americans while being chased by the police, and when I found them, Rui was with them."

  Deng sat down in Ziyi's chair, looking every bit a frail old man instead of the second most powerful man in the Empire. "Rui?"

  "He confessed to being involved just before he tried to kill me. He thought he'd succeeded."

  "By the Heavens." Deng rubbed his face, trying to bring some colour back to his cheeks. "I thought we'd identified everyone who was involved... I had no idea Rui was one of the traitors. Have you told anyone else?"

  "No sir. I came straight here. You were the only person I knew I could trust."

  Deng straightened in the chair as his former confidence came back. "You did the right thing, Ziyi." He picked up her pistol from the arm rest. "The right thing for me, that is."

  Ziyi flinched as the gun went off and white pain erupted across her stomach. She dropped to one knee, her strength gone. She grasped her stomach as warm blood leaked from her. Even so, she still couldn't believe it when her hand came away stained red. "What?"

  Deng stood up, and dialled a number on his phone. "She's here. Come up."

  "You too?" She stared at Deng, willing the truth not to be so as she applied pressure to her wound.

  " Do you really think anything happens in the Empire without my permission?"

  "But Xiao..."

  "I'm not going to let Xiao's naive views of reform and democracy jeopardise everything I've worked so hard to build. Steps had to be taken."

  Ziyi shook her head. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "How could you?"

  "Why? For the only reason. For the Empire," said Deng. "Just, unfortunately, not for the Emperor. After tonight, I'll have removed all opposition from the Government, leaving the Emperor isolated from any other influence. Even his son will do what I ask. I have performed a coup in plain sight without anyone the wiser."

  "But how many have died... "

  "How many people?" said Deng. "I don't know. They're just ants to me. Why should I care if some get squashed under foot? None of them matter. I could kill a billion of them, and another billion would scurry along to clear the bodies away, eager take their places. A million died building a wall across China just so it could be seen from the Heavens. Do you think anyone worried about their lives? The foundations of our Empire were built with flesh and bone and blood, and we'll conquer the stars in the same way. As the proverb says: tens of thousands will become ashes when one general achieves his fame."

  "Every life matters," snarled Ziyi. "They are the Empire. They are who we serve."

  "Foolish girl."

  Footsteps entered the room behind her. Deng greeted the newcomer with a smile. "Ah good. You're here. Can I leave our friend here in your capable hands? I'd better return to Xiao's side."

  "Of course, sir. It will be a pleasure." A woman's voice, so familiar.

  "Goodbye, Ziyi," said Deng as he walked past her.

  Ziyi controlle
d her breathing as she pressed her hand into her wound. The mek would stop the bleeding. She just needed time. Still on her knees, she turned to face the newcomer.

  The air caught in her throat. Shock rippled through her as her own face started back at her. Or rather her face before that night, unscarred and unblemished, hair still long in the perfect Princess cut. It was the woman from the newscast. The doppelganger.

  "Who are you?" she asked her twin.

  26

  Wing

  One thing was for sure, the drugs worked. A part of Wing's brain knew his ankle was broken but he as sure as hell didn't care. Song's strapping was holding up, and apart from the occasional wobble he walked normally. The guard's eyeball had opened up the elevator without a problem, and as they climbed up the levels, he couldn't help but believe they were going to make it out alive.

  It hadn't taken too long for them to work out where they were either. They'd stopped the elevator at level One as it seemed as good a place as any to start trying to find their bearings, and the moment the doors opened, Wing recognised Control. They were back where it had all started, in the heart of the Peak. He stepped back, pressing against the wall of the elevator while the MTC dealt with the fear trying to nibble away in his gut.

  Without saying a word, Song pressed the button for level One Eight Eight.

  When the doors closed again, Wing realised he'd been holding his breath. "Shit. We're only in the most heavily guarded place in Hong Kong. We're fucked."

  "We're not," said Song. "We stick to the plan. We're going to walk out of here. Get some help and deal with Deng."

  "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." They could do it, Wing told himself. Song was right. Nothing had changed. Their disguise was good. He watched the floors zip by on the indicator above the door. The drug surged inside him, reassuring him. "Let's do it."

  The elevator dinged as it arrived on One Eight Eight. They stepped out into the corridor. To the left led to the Pod. To the right was the street. People rushed in every direction, urgency written on all their faces. Buggies zipped past, overloaded with troops and technicians. It looked like the world was preparing for war.

  "Come on." Song marched off towards the street exit, and Wing quickly fell into step behind her, hoping that no one noticed his limp.

  "Captain Raun, please contact Central Command Immediately. Captain Raun contact Central Command," said a woman's voice over the public address system.

  "Think that's one of our guys?" said Wing.

  "Who knows. All we can do is keep moving," replied Song.

  A squad of troopers ran towards them at the double, with rifles clutched tightly to their chests. Wing's hand went to his pistol as his footsteps slowed. He had no idea how they'd found them so quickly but there was no way he'd let them take him alive. Not after the white. He'd rather blow his own brains out than be erased a memory at a time. The Heavens only knew what he'd lost already.

  He watched the troops come closer and closer. The squad leader pointed at Wing. "You there, get out the way."

  He stuttered a step, unsure of what he'd just heard. Song pushed him to the side and they both watched the troops run past.

  "Fuck, Wing. When I saw you go for your gun, I thought you were going to start shooting," said Song.

  "I'm not going to taken alive. Not after what just happened. Fuck that." He started walking again, and this time Song had to follow. He marched down the corridor, ignoring the crunch in his ankle. He was getting out of that place. Let Song worry about Deng. He'd done his part and nearly got killed. It was time for him to disappear, become a ghost. If a fool like Jim could live off the grid, he damn well could too. Maybe head down to Australia or someplace in Europe. Definitely low key. Sit on a beach. Get fit. Get well. Give up the drugs. Eat healthy. Might even quit the cigarettes too. Whatever. He was just getting the fuck out of Hong Kong. Staying alive. That's all that mattered.

  More calls for Captain Raun rang out overhead. No one paid them any heed but Wing picked up the pace. He stumbled as he put too much weight on his broken ankle, but Song had a hand on his elbow to steady him before he fell.

  They passed the changing rooms and Wing could see the doors leading out to the foyer. The street exit lay beyond them. They were nearly home. Just a retina scan stood between them and freedom.

  They stopped by the scanner, and Song flipped her visor up. Wing watched two guards nearby chatting together. His mouth went dry as Song lifted the stolen eyeball up to the scanner and leaned in, pretending to let her own retina be examined. Raun's details came up on the monitor. Wing tried to swallow, and failed. He needed a drink. The doors slid open.

  They were free.

  "Hey," called one of the guards as Song and Wing stepped through the doorway. "Stop."

  They turned to face him as he ran over. Song slipped the visor in place and Wing positioned himself in front of her to allow her to hide the eye.

  "You Captain Raun?" he asked.

  Song nodded but didn't speak.

  "You not hear them paging you all over Control?" asked the guard. "Every couple of minutes they're dinging your name out."

  "We've both got ears. We're not deaf. We have orders to fulfil first," answered Wing, stepping forward. "For the First Minister."

  "But it must be urgent," said the guard. "Perhaps your orders have changed."

  "Do you understand what's going on?" said Wing. "The threat that faces the Empire? We haven't got time to waste on talking to you. Lives depend on us." The MTC raged through him. He could break the guard in half if he had to. He wanted to, in fact. About time he returned some of the hurt inflicted on him.

  The guard stepped back, bowed. "Apologies. I didn't mean to offend or hinder you." He slapped his fist against his chest. "For the Emperor. For the Empire."

  Wing returned the salute. "For the Emperor. For the Empire."

  "He'll call it in," said Song as they exited the building. It was dark outside — they'd lost a whole day captive.

  "Yeah," said Wing, resisting the urge to look back. "We haven't got much time. At least we're outside now. Gives us a chance." They headed west, passing the spot where Wing would normally have his first cigarette after his shift. He could practically taste the nicotine. To say he could do with a smoke was an understatement. Still, they were out. First things first - stay alive.

  "Let's get you to a doctor and get your ankle fixed. I can call in help from there," said Song. "Work out how to deal with Rui — and whoever’s behind it all."

  "I wish we could get in touch with Ziyi. See how she's doing and tell what we know."

  "We'd have heard if they'd caught her. Hopefully she's having more luck than us."

  "Where's your doctor?" Judging by how confident Wing felt, the MTC was still working but his ankle grew more uncomfortable with each step. Pretty soon he'd be immobilised again. He still had another dose of the drug tucked away, but he wanted to keep that safe in case things went to hell again.

  "The other side of the Chai. In Tin Hau. Level One Three Six."

  "We can't walk there. I certainly can't walk there." He looked back down the road at Control, just before it disappeared around a corner. A lot of troops were gathering outside. They had to be looking for the two of them.

  "Don't worry," said Song and stepped out into the road and the on-coming traffic. She held out her hand to an approaching car, her other hand very clearly resting on the grip of her pistol.

  The car stopped. Song walked to the driver's window and tapped on the glass. The woman behind the wheel looked to be in her mid-thirties and already nervous. A child's safety seat was set up in the rear.

  "This your vehicle, ma'am?" asked Song.

  "Yes," replied the driver. "Yes, it is. Have I done something wrong?"

  Song pretended to look at something on her wrist monitor. "I need you to step out of the vehicle."

  "But why?" said the woman. "I don't understand..."

  Song stepped back and pulled her pistol halfway from its holster. "Get
out of the vehicle now."

  "Okay." The woman stuck her hands up as she exited the car. Behind her, other drivers hit their horns in frustration at the delay.

  Further down the road, Wing could see a small group of troopers heading their way. At least there weren't any drones looking for them yet. "Song... we don't have much time."

  Song walked the driver over to a signpost. "You're vehicle has been reported stolen. I'm going to cuff you here until a meat wagon can come and pick you up. We're taking your car to the Impound."

  "But... it's not stolen. It's mine," protested the woman as Song cuffed her.

  "So says every thief I've ever arrested. If it's a mistake, headquarters will clean it up." The woman stared open-mouthed as Song slipped behind the wheel. Wing jumped in beside her.

  "Can't believe you did that," said Wing as they drove off. "But they'll be over us like a rash all the same."

  "We're not keeping the car. Just need some distance." She swerved onto the highway, slotting comfortably between two autopilot cars. They moved down level, towards Admiralty. Warning signs reported closed roads ahead due to an undisclosed traffic accident so Song took the next exit and moved through the back streets through Wan Chai. She stopped on Star Street. Even though they were still on the Mid-Levels, the neighbourhood wasn't going to win any awards for cleanliness. "Perfect."

  "What's perfect?" asked Wing.

  "We'll leave car here with the engine still running. It'll be boosted the moment we turn our backs. Some poor kid can joyride it until the cops pick him up."

  "How're we going to get to Tin Hau then? Not sure if I can walk much further."

  "Same way we got this ride." She tapped her helmet. "We're the law. We can do whatever we want."

  "Fuck yeah," said Wing. He flung his door open and stepped out into the street. "I kinda like this." He followed Song down Ship Street to where it met Lockhart Road. It was quieter than it normally was, but after everything that had happened Wing wasn't surprised. At least two cops in full armour wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb. They even got a few grateful nods as they made their way Westward. For a city that hated the police, it was amazing how a few bombs had changed opinion.